Spy High: Bond v2: Legacy
by Linx Flame
Summary: A Spy High fic after the works of A.J. Butcher. None of the original Spy High concept belongs to me, it's all his, as well as any canon characters that pop up. All of those characters who do not appear in the books are mine.
1. What Kind Of School Is This?

A massive forest of wires, tangled and so unnatural, out of place in their surroundings held the first step to freeing her sister. Fingers gingerly searched through the wires, encased in a combination of concrete and bendable plastic, past greens and blues, reds and golds until reaching an undistinguished black wire. An oddly-shaped tree encased the wires, which despite its counterparts ceased sporadic movement on the only slightly breezy day, although other branches continued to probe the air for anomalies. Expert hands removed the casing of the wire, revealing a twisted, gleaming strand of silver. A tiny click of a miniscule box, clear and blinking red, sent a signal over a distance of fifteen or so miles, to a big white house in the center of Wellesley, Massachusetts.

A voice, loud, chirping, and cocky burst into her pale ear, laced with five different-colored gemstone piercings. The voice came from a short, dirty-blond haired kid, no older than thirteen, where fingers too large for his body click-clacked on a keyboard in front of six or seven flat-screen monitors and various pieces of hardware whirring away. A headpiece, equipped with a clearly expensive set of headphones and a microphone transferred the annoying voice to the ear, but the boy looked more like a McDonald's employee than a technological mastermind.

"Alright Lizzie!" he'd exclaimed rather loudly, clearly excited over their success so far. A hand reached up to her temple, clutching her head from the pain caused by the ringing in her ears. The voice continued to blabber on about something to do with a feedback loop, but the only thing she really caught was "stand still until I give the go-ahead. Heh heh, the go-ahead. I crack myself up." Alright, his expertise soundly planned this mission, though he sure did not sound like an expert of anything but comic books. Lizzie held her body perfectly still as he did whatever technical task he was doing. Her head was alert, eyes scanning every which direction. Her tanned, freckled shoulders were flexed, her whole body in a ready stance. Black leather lace up combat boots folded to her bent legs, her crouching stance causing wrinkles to form in her slightly baggy camo pants. Lizzie remained silent, unmoving, not blinking an eyelash. She appeared similar to a statue of a goddess with her blonde curls up loosely in a ponytail. Her thin body readied itself beneath a ribbed racer-back top, also the same camouflage as her pants.

The grounds showed no signs of wildlife, and aside from the slight mechanical whirring of the tree branches, everything sounded eerily silent. A light breeze danced lightly on her face, but Lizzie could care less about the nice weather. The smell of newly-cut grass wafted through her nostrils prominently. Clearly a groundskeeper existed somewhere, but she did not think she needed to worry about that right now.

"Okay, I'm feeding in the loop now. You're free to roam, Bumble Bee." Kyle's voice chirped in her ear, clearly trying to annoy her by giving her a codename. He thought Liz overreacted about the entire thing. Her big sister probably had mountains of homework to deal with. Despite the serene day and relatively unhindered mission so far, she could not concentrate with him chirping in her ear. She did not choose to play secret agent. Her sister promised to come home for Christmas and she had not. Then her phone calls became less and less, until she had not called once in the past two weeks. Lizzie knew that if Stelle could choose, her sister would return home for the holidays. She did not need any more of Kyle's help anyways. The place looked like someone built it in the early nineteen-hundreds. How sophisticated of a security system would a prep school have installed anyways?

Manicured emerald fingernails reached up to the ponytail at the top of her head, now that she could move. She rose from a stealth position while tucking a stray blonde curl back into her beige elastic. Her tiny diamond studs lined the outside of her pale ear, the miniscule flesh-colored communicator hidden within the inner part. As her hands came down from fixing her hair, she simply dislodged the tiny earpiece. This mission would from now on belong to her alone. She could not concentrate on a way in anyways with Kyle blabbering incessantly in her ear. The communicator fell into the dirt while Kyle's whiny voice screamed for her to pick it up. Lizzie pretended not to notice.

Grey-blue eyes surveyed the grounds as Lizzie moved silently and stealthily between the trees. She didn't see any guards around but a football team practiced on the sports field. Lizzie found the lack of empty cups and Gatorade bottles a bit strange but Lizzie ignored that fact and focused on a way to get past the team unnoticed. However, the more she studied the practice the more uneasy she felt.

Lizzie loved football more than any sport. The real kind of football and, in particular, the New England Patriots. Lizzie soon realized no ordinary football team played on that field. The boys looked normal enough, sure, in their pads with varied netted shirts over them; even the sweat on their foreheads appeared normal. But whoever created this clever illusion missed two things, aside from the Gatorade bottles and paper cups. No sound emanated from the field. None of the boys grunted or yelled as they practiced. All sports teams made noise when playing. A good team couldn't win without communication. The designer also missed the fact that the same plays looped over and over again, the placement of players the same every time, the outcome the same, without even a break to discuss the plays.

Crawling through the grass on her stomach with her forearms and knees moving her forward, none of them seemed to detect her. Her approach involved risks but something about the football team compelled her to move closer. As she rose to her feet, none of them seemed to make eye contact with her. Lizzie did a few jumping jacks. None of them even batted an eyelash at her. Reaching out a pale hand, she intended to tap one of them on the shoulder. To her surprise, her fingers shot straight through, causing five holes of distortion in the illusion of the football player's shoulders. White lightning seemed to crackle from her fingertips, like the lines that formed on the old analog television sets. Drawing her hand back with a gasp, Lizzie ran towards the school in shock. Holograms? But why? All of a sudden she could feel a sinking feeling in her stomach, like she'd swallowed a rock. Once her back was up against the brick wall, Lizzie took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling back into the wall. Methodically, she moved around the school, checking for ways other than the front door into the school. But every windowsill was painted shut, every door other than the front one locked. The main entrance looked like the only way in, so she had no choice. Liz wished she kept the communicator now. Maybe Kyle could have told her a better way in but she didn't have the time for regrets.

Another deep breath in, as her hand rested on the brass handle of the giant double doors. If she went in now she could not turning back. The heavy wooden door swung open silently at the push of her thumb and Lizzie walked into the reception area. The lobby looked normal enough. Wooden, paneled walls, ugly green carpeting and old Victorian furniture that belonged in a museum even in the time of her grandparents filled the space in a typical prep school look. Again appeared the same mistake. No students, not even prep school students, wandered down the halls silently. Lizzie passed straight through them and strode purposefully up to the desk. An old lady sat behind the desk, white hair done in a permanent, just like most other old ladies. Her head stared downwards, her spectacles resting on the bridge of her nose as a small desk lamp provided light for whatever activity the secretary focused on. A brass nameplate on the desk read Violette Crabtree. The name seemed normal enough but for all Lizzie knew the illusions continued with the secretary.

"I want to see my sister. Where are you keeping her?" she demanded in a loud voice, her steely gray eyes glaring at the secretary. Slowly, the old lady looked up from the novel she held in her decrepit hands, a Tom Clancy thriller from the 20th century. If Lizzie been more alert and less worried about her sister, she'd have noticed the twinkle in the old woman's eyes, like the school expected her. The old woman rose slowly, painstakingly from her seat. Lizzie should have noticed the hand Violette used for support actually depressed a button on the desk. Lizzie felt a small, sharp pinch in her leg, but she couldn't do anything about it.

The old woman rose from her hunched over stance, moving towards her with the ease of a teenager. The liquid flowed through her veins, threatening to haze over her brain and leave her open to attack Her sluggish hand moved to the baton on her belt, fighting the effects on her body. With the last ounce of strength, the baton landed on the secretary as she switched on the electricity. Both ladies fell to the floor in a heap, unconscious on the rug of the foyer. The baton rolled from her hand. A red welt formed on the forearm of the old lady. Overall, the scene looked like a big disaster. All Lizzie kept thinking as her consciousness escaped her was this- what kind of school did Stelle go to?

If computers could smile, Jonathan Deveraux's would stretch a mile long. He knew this would happen. 


	2. You're Going Down

Elegant, long tapered fingers wrapped slowly, one at a time, around the contoured black rubber grips on the handles of shining silver blades, pointed perfectly and glinting in the pale gleam of the street lamps and roof foot lights. A chilly wind ruffled dark, raven-colored waves of hair, laced sparingly with deep crimson strands, the crimson of blood. Alert, scanning eyes depicted the same scarlet red in the irises. Deep tanned skin stretched flawlessly into a lunging stance, legs moving amazingly easy for being covered in the same material. Wrists, tensely bent and poised for anything, appeared ready to go.

Against the bare skin of her shoulders where her crimson locks did not reach rested soft black leather; where her hair exposed her neck she could barely feel the ends of his hair, long for her male partner, but tousled, and in some ways attractive. The same crimson red strands fell in his face, but instead of the raven color like his partner, a honey-brown formed the base. With his chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and perfectly shaped nose one could consider him handsome but for his eyes, entirely black and devoid of white. His jacket reached three inches above the cement, where black pants tucked into black boots and a black muscle shirt ended just over a black belt. Moonlight shone onto golden skin, paler than hers but still considered tan. Two twin short sword blades also gleamed in the moonlight, similar rubber grips ready to be wielded in his strong, thick-fingered hands. Her partner in this endeavor, his back leaned against hers to ensure a maximum defensive stance as they waited for their adversaries to arrive.

A soft white fog began to settle in, replacing the slight wind of before, the temperature increasing by quite a few degrees. Both moonlight and artificial light contributed to the eerie setting. Warm, light droplets of rain commenced falling from the sky, soon to join beads of perspiration on their skin. The dark-haired girl thought the scene a bit over-dramatic. Two other figures approached through the wisps of white, merely shadows through the poor visibility.

His deep voice cut through the silence like a knife. "I'll take on Karen," he said, never turning from his position. The girl would have chuckled out loud, but she knew her partner didn't find it quite as funny as she did. Arching her back as not to bother him with her motion, the girl rolled her shoulder forwards, causing her shoulder blade to protrude in and out, working out a kink in the muscle. As she did this she thought about how different they were-- and how different they would be. If only he knew, she thought and relaxed her body back into the defensive stance.

"I don't think so," she replied out loud, to the obvious annoyance of her partner. "You fight David, per protocol." A slight note of authority slipped into her voice as she said this. Generally she wouldn't pull rank, but authority seemed necessary in this situation. She would have preferred to switch partners as well to the correct pairs, her and David, Jarrett and Karen. But the guy/girl teams had been decided at random, and this time they'd lost the dice roll. The two of them were friends once, really close in fact, but something went wrong. She just associated him with some memories she preferred to forget, and then the whole Jarrett and Karen thing happened. What, did Simon Macey think himself funny when he designed the Macey Test? No other leader of Bond Team had to deal with these "graduate-designed" tests and trust issues before. Deveraux must have been off his rocker when he commissioned them.

On the opposite side of the rooftop, the other team readied themselves to counter-attack any first moves. Like Jarrett and his partner, David and Karen dressed similarly in pristine white leather that hid in the fog. One had dark brown spiked hair tipped with white, while the other had long, mouse-brown hair, stick straight despite the rain with thick white-blond streaks. The girl watched the other two with icy, unnaturally blue eyes. The dark-haired boy jumped up and down excitedly, pumped up for this match, blue eyes glittering. The red-eyed girl would have laughed if not for Karen's presence. David smiled, seemingly oblivious to the tension between everyone else. He just grinned his goofy grin, though the icy blue eyes almost made him look menacing. He enjoyed pairing up with two beautiful girls, girls that he needed to impress with his fighting prowess.

"Jarrett, you're going down man!" David called out, pointing at him. He brought his fist in, punching the center of his chest, a hollow sound resonating as he did so. Karen winced, both at the immaturity of her partner and at what he'd said. She had hoped to fight her boyfriend. He promised her they would fight each other if they ended up on opposite teams, no matter what "that girl" said. But her pale brown eyes watched with fury as the other girl settled back against her boyfriend, annoyingly close and comfortable. With boiling blood, Karen started to think that she wouldn't mind not fighting her boyfriend. Maybe a few bruises would teach that girl a thing or two about nosing into where she didn't belong.

"It's too bad, it could have been a lovely partnership between the two of us. A win for sure. Imagine the victory celebration." David spoke to the girl, who now smiled, observing her two opponents. As she studied Karen her grin became more of a smirk, as if she knew what Karen thought, and settled in closer to Jarrett. It disgusted her to have a person like Karen on Bond Team, to room with her, to feign friendship. She knew, however, that she had to deal with Karen on Bond Team, at least for the time being. Now however, she needed to make the first move.

Miss DiOrazio, leader of Bond Team, seemed to fade into the fog, disappearing from sight. The place that she had occupied on the top of the roof filled with nothing but fog. Karen should have prepared for what happened next, but her team leader had caught her off guard. Only a split-second reaction twirled Karen around, long brown hair whipping around with her quick motion, blocking the advance. Lucky for Karen, her own blades had stopped her opponent's pointed katanas only nanometers from her heart. Had the team leader the time to study the two of them, freeze them in position, she would have found the irony of Karen's blades crossed in front of her chest in an x with her own two through the center amusing. Her red eyes met Karen's blue, both stares sharing a contempt and hatred for the other. Both glaring, both filled with anger, revenge, and hopefulness. But only one pair would eventually fill with fear, the other with triumph. For now, her message had gotten across. Karen knew that her team leader knew the secret, and knew her time soon would end. Bond Team wouldn't contain the both of them, never would. Only this thought comforted the raven-haired girl sometimes. But at the moment, she had Karen's fighting skills to worry about.

The light brown-haired girl pushed with all of her might against her opposition's blades with her own. In many ways her team leader possessed skills superior to her, and martial arts with weapons remained no exception to the rule. Accordingly, the other girl's crimson-streaked curls shook as she pushed downwards quickly, breaking Karen's grip with sheer force, and with a quick lunge landed the first hit with a long but superficial slice across Karen's abdomen. The cut dripped tiny orbs of crimson blood, running down her moonlit white skin, pooling at her waistband. Karen lunged out for a counter-attack on her opponent's left shoulder, but her opponent swatted it away as simply as if her hand resembled a fly. Karen's attacks continued forward furiously, putting her opponent on the defensive. However, from the look on her team leader's face, she probably could parry every advance forever. Though neither of them said anything, it seemed that only a yawn wanted to come out of the dark-haired girl's mouth. Ample reason existed why the others elected this girl Bond Team's leader, obvious from the fight here and in many other ways. Highest grades, calm demeanor, and certainly less arrogance than the former Bond Team's first leader. She also had very good decision-making skills, which caused her at that moment to spin out of the monotonous exchange, back handing her right katana so that it stopped point-blank from Karen's heart, through the center of her back. But then, the movement of both girls froze completely, the droplets of light rain stopped like bullets in midair. The flickering of a faulty footlight had stopped, and the boys appeared also in a similar situation, completely still in mid-combat, Jarrett clearly winning over David.

"End program." A booming voice spoke overhead, and Bond's leader cringed at the volume. The rooftop disappeared beneath their feet, crumbling into pixel dust and pulled away as if a vacuum pulled away the pieces. The sky faded to white, as did the rest of the void around them, the white void stretching endlessly. The weapons dissolved from their hands, and as soon as they regained control of their bodies, assumed a nonchalant stance as if nothing happened. For all the outside world knew, they might have sun-tanned on a beach for the past hour. Out of the middle of nowhere arrived a tall, distinguished man with graying hair, a no-nonsense look on his face- Corporal Keene, one of the professors at Deveraux Academy, hardly ever smiled.

"Stelle, it seems we have a bit of a situation. I'll see you in a few minutes." Stelle ran this statement through her mind. What could possibly be wrong that the teachers would stop a training session during free time? Stelle wondered if Deveraux would send Bond Team on a mission of some kind, like the former Bond Team. Her first real mission would rock. Karen's glare that she glimpsed out of the corner of her eye almost made her smirk. But she didn't have time to think more about the situation as her mind transferred back to her body, cast into darkness.

Karen's time would come. For now, though, Stelle apparently had important team-leader duties to tend to. The pneumatic hiss of the hydraulic mechanism on the lid of the cyber-cradle alerted Stelle to the fact that her consciousness had indeed returned to the real world. Stelle arose from her horizontal position quickly, finding the usual three minute adjustment period unnecessary. Adjustments in the field led to weaknesses, weaknesses led to mistakes, and mistakes led to fatalities. Never be lulled into a false sense of security. Always be ready, even in Deveraux Academy. The enemy had breached security before. As the others still woke from their cradles, she informed them that she expected to meet with them afterwards in the girls' dorm. But for now, she had a meeting to attend, and leapt out of the pod to make her way to her professor's office, presumably to meet with their founder, Jonathan Deveraux. 


	3. Sisters Are Forever

Lizzie had awoken to find herself trapped in an office with the same wooden-paneled walls and ugly green carpet as upstairs. A videvision projector stood behind her, and she sat on one of those museum chairs. Whatever had pricked her leg had knocked her out, but her head didn't pound and her thoughts seemed pretty clear, not hazy. Good thing they didn't use chloroform like Nancy Drew always seemed to run into. She had to find a way out of there, and fast. It didn't seem like such a good idea to stick around this "school" for much longer. Maybe she should grab Stelle and hightail it out of there, considering her older sister still existed. Lizzie scolded herself for thinking such a thought- of course she would find her sister alive and well. She just needed to find her and get her out of there.

Lizzie rose from her chair and looked around. With no windows, the lamps provided the only light. A book shelf filled the wall to her left, lined with leather-bound books that had to be at least three centuries old. Paper books polluted the black market as a rarity these days but older paper books became priceless. The collection didn't surprise Liz too much though; her dad had a similar collection at home. Behind her a mahogany desk with a holoscreen hookup and a mindset interface ruined the illusion of past. But straight in front was her ticket out of there. A big wooden door with a brass handle and, thankfully, the locking mechanism on the inside. Lizzie practically bolted for the door, but when she put her hand on it she found that not only could she not remove her hand from it, but a paralysis was setting quickly into her left arm. Taking a deep breath, Lizzie attempted to stay calm. There had to be something... there, on the end table. A pair of silver gloves. She didn't think they were rubber, but she thought they would provide enough insulation to be able to remove her left hand from the door. As her right arm lunged out as far as it could to grasp the gloves, she could already feel the paralysis creeping up her shoulder. If she wanted to still have her mobility and the chance to get out alive, Lizzie had to get her hand off the door. After three tries she managed to grab a finger of one of the gloves, even though she felt as though her movement would split the left side of her body from her right. Wiggling her hand into the silver glove, she gripped her forearm and pulled it away from the door with enough force to knock her down on the ground. But hey at least she was getting somewhere.

It was pretty clear that she wouldn't be getting through that door unless she had help. The glove had done the trick but she didn't think she wanted to bother with the door again until she'd checked for other possible ways out. Lizzie pulled her legs into an Indian-style position and looked around her while her right arm cradled her left. What would James Bond do in her situation? Oh, she wished she'd paid more attention to the old spy movies Stelle liked to watch. The bookcase seemed like a logical place to start. Rising from her spot on the floor, Lizzie began to make her way to the bookcase. The spies in the old movies always proceeded to pull out all the books from the shelf. With her good right hand, Lizzie began to drop the books from their places on the shelf to the floor, pages fluttering. As she continued to do this, the door to Keene's office opened, unbeknownst to her.

"Have you any idea what those books are worth young lady?" Lizzie stopped and turned to stare at him. Would this be the megalomaniac behind her sister's disappearance? If her mother hadn't trained her in manners so well, she would have spit at his feet. Instead, she sufficed to give him a stony glare. Here he kept her captive, immobilizing her pitching arm and he's lecturing her about what to do with his books? What a gentleman. Lizzie almost decided to take her chances with him and try to make her way out of the door when he stepped aside to allow another person through. She barely needed to see the raven-colored curls to know who entered. Lizzie rushed forward and gave her sister a huge hug.

"Where have you been, why haven't you called? Why didn't you come home for Christmas? Do you have any idea how worried I've been?" Lizzie stepped away from her sister, still holding her shoulders with her manicured nails. Her sister looked different in a way, but not very different. Her sister gained much more muscle than the last time she saw her, and somehow she looked older. Stress clearly took its toll on Stella DiOrazio, and her sister could tell. Again, her mind kept coming back to one question- what kind of school was this? Lizzie saw her sister take in the disheveled state of the room.

"I've been here, and I'm sorry I haven't called, we had finals for this term that I've been focused on. I know you've been worried, and I'm sorry. But I couldn't come home for Christmas because I was on call, in case of a presidential assassination." Corporal Keene briefed her on the way to his office. Someone shut the security protocols down, and Lizzie made it all the way to Mrs. Crabtree before the secretary stopped her. Her sister, though brilliant, couldn't do this entirely alone.

If her sister got in here, someone at home ran back up. Stelle suspected they would all need mindwiping. The Four Hooligans didn't do anything without each other. Stelle called Lizzie and her 'gang' of friends the Four Hooligans, especially before she came to Spy High. Lizzie's friends came from normal, middle class backgrounds and Stelle hadn't understood why her sister would hang out with them, until now. She would have to give Madison, Cooper, and Kyle more credit when she returned home. Stelle really didn't like the idea of all of them being mindwiped. Oh, Deveraux would have to kill her before she'd let her little sister get mindwiped. All of this seemed far too overwhelming. She needed a few minutes to work on a strategy.

Lizzie, on the other hand, appeared relatively unsurprised. She always expected Stelle to end up doing something like this, only a matter of time. What she felt angry about was her sister lying to her. If anything she expected the truth over anyone else from her best friend. She wouldn't tell the world or anything. If Stelle had told her the truth, she wouldn't have created such an elaborate infiltration plan. Speaking of her little super-spy expedition, Kyle probably spent the afternoon freaking out about her. Lizzie supposed he'd called the rest of her friends over now, maybe to stage a rescue mission. He probably watched this on the monitors right now. She found it surprising that he hadn't hacked entirely into the system yet.

"Let's get down to business, ladies, shall we?" Deveraux had appeared on the vidscreen. "Obviously we have to do something about this. I've looked over some of Elizabeth DiOrazio's medical records and I have found that she will be put at risk by a mind wipe. My recommendation is that she remains here for a few days for medical testing and then we will determine her fate." Deveraux had then disappeared from the screen. His recommendation definitely seemed more than just that- clearly an order, not a recommendation. Stelle looked to Keene to Lizzie to Keene. She glared at the Corporal angrily.

"I will not have my younger and only sister subject to something that might kill her, you understand me, Corporal Keene?" She put a nasty emphasis on his name. Stelle didn't think she felt this angry about anything in her whole life. Her sister would not be compromised because some middle-aged, reclusive millionaire had a small case of paranoia. Deveraux would just have to deal with it. Corporal Keene tactfully said nothing to counter her statement.

"May I suggest that you brief your teammates while I take your sister on a tour of the school?" Stelle contemplated this. She really didn't want to let her sister out of her sight for the duration of her stay at Spy High, but something about Keene she trusted. Something about his base character that she liked; the fact he had honor. She looked to Lizzie again, then returned her eyes to Keene.

"Whatever, just as long as it's you doing the tour guide thing." Stelle raised a finger to the center of her sternum, then to her eye, and then pointed at him. "I'm watching you," she mouthed, and then disappeared around the corner down the corridors of Spy High, clenched fists and furrowed eyebrows. Someone would pay dearly if her sister was hurt. 


	4. Too Cool To Mess With You

Stelle marched down the white and silver hallways of the subbasement, each foot stomping on the tiles with vigor. Someone didn't realize they shouldn't anger anyone with pure mafia blood and Stelle appeared absolutely furious. Her fists clenched tightly into little balls, nails digging into the flesh of her palms. Crimson lips pressed tightly together, brilliant white teeth turning each other into dust. Bright green eyes lit ablaze with fury and her raven colored curls shook as if her whole body felt the effects of her rage. How dare he think he could do that! How dare he? Stella DiOrazio would not stand there and allow her sister's life to be placed in danger.

Bursting into her dorm, it looked like she'd forgotten that she'd asked everyone to meet there. It seemed like an eternity ago that she'd defeated Karen in the virtu-chamber. So as the door swung violently open, five pairs of eyes stared at their leader. Completely uncharacteristic for her to just burst in a room like that, Stelle's teammates looked at each other curiously. If Stelle appeared angry, she would always make a point of keeping her cool. Usually, the calm told Bond Team that their leader felt upset; her cool, cunning passion would be focused only on the object of her frustration or Bond Team's latest task. Nothing in her eyes seemed to show that she registered the fact that the five other Bond Teamers sat in the room. Stelle dove onto her bed and covered her head with a pillow. The possibility of her family being harmed only set her off.

"Stelle honey, what's wrong?" the words came from the mouth of Dahlia Nyugen, Stelle's best friend and fellow member of Bond Team. She wore a cute outfit, jeans with a rainbow belt and a yellow v-neck tee shirt with an orange and pink rose pattern superimposed on it. If she could have, she would have had a wetsuit on underneath. Her long black hair tied neatly up in two double messy buns, rainbow scrunchies around them. She sat next to her friend on her bed, a hand gently resting on her shoulder. Her other hand toyed with a golden Japanese character around her neck, the traditional symbol of courage and bravery. Around the room, the other Bond Teamers sat in different places. Jarrett sat on Karen's bed, reclining against the headboard. His lanky body stretched out along the length of the bed, and Karen's head lay on the center of his stomach. She lay next to him, her legs curled beneath her. They acted like Stelle coming in had been nothing but a minor occurrence. David focused both eyes on Stelle, removing himself from his "I'm so bored" position in the armchair and immediately sitting down next to Dahlia on Stelle's bed. Carter, the final member of Bond team, chattered on in Italian, angrily yelling at the person at the other end. He yelled once more and then covered his receiver with the palm of his hand. "What's wrong?" he mouthed, but then must've heard something he didn't like because he immediately went back to yelling in Italian.

How different Bond Team was from Solo Team here at Spy High. The teams acted completely different. At the beginning they both appeared very similar- all six seemed the best of friends. But that soon changed after Stromfeld. An incident turned Bond into its current state: two factions with Carter in the middle. He needed to act as a negotiator, a mediator between the two parties. The feud lay mainly between Stelle and Jarrett but truthfully nobody really knew why they'd gotten into a fight. Jarrett broke up with his girlfriend at home and started going out with Karen shortly after Stromfeld and that's all anyone knew. Since then, Bond Team ended up a social mess though they still held their own with Solo. Solo, on the other hand, gained the nickname of the Amazons. The 'trio of terror' as Stelle liked to refer to them, Ophelia, Lauren, and Marie, led Solo team as its best agents. Inseparable best friends, the girls became the most cliquish clique at Spy High. Their boyfriends, the guys on Solo Team, became completely submissive. They had three pretty girls to make out with whenever they felt like it- why not let them get their way?

This reason, this blatant disregard for gender equality that pitted Stelle against Solo Team more so than anyone else. The common room set the scene for one of their more well-known confrontations. It happened shortly after Bond had won the Sherlock Shield, defeating Solo Team in a landslide victory. Stelle appeared extremely happy at the time, and Dahlia, David, Carter and herself played pool while Karen and Jarrett made out in a corner. Ophelia, team leader, must've felt the need to damper their celebration because she walked up behind Stelle with a virgin strawberry daiquiri in hand, and dumped it all over Stelle when she whirled around to see who walked up behind her. Stelle's fingers spread apart and she stood stiffly, as if pretending she didn't have a cold strawberry slushy all over her would cause the liquid to disappear.

"Losing didn't cause you any satisfaction?" she sneered at Ophelia, annoyed. Immediately Dahlia, David and Carter appeared at her sides. Dahlia handed Stelle a stack of napkins, who started to wipe off her hands and shirt. Dahlia gave Ophelia an icy glare. Carter had to restrain David from running off and beating up Ophelia's boyfriend. He had this rule where he wouldn't beat up girls, but he had no problem avenging his or his friend's honor by beating up the girl's boyfriend. That's what Stelle liked about him, his loyalty.

"Hey," Ophelia said, sounding hurt, though she held an unmistakable hint of sarcasm in her voice, "I was trying to make a peace offering and you knocked it all over yourself. Don't be angry with me!" This only caused Stelle to become angrier, furrowing her brow as she continued to brush the icy liquid off of her jeans. Her silk and Chanel top appeared ruined; she did not at all feel happy about the strawberry stains on it. Daddy wouldn't be happy either, but he'd technically stopped the mob business after Grampy died and gone legit. It still made her angry that Ophelia did this, and she swore she would get her back. Ophelia just stomped off angrily to her posse, where they abruptly burst into cackling laughter. Ophelia tossed her bright red hair backwards and put on her black jeweled Stetson, which apparently was all the rage down South. Marie tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear and continued to laugh in her English voice. Lauren had a smirk on her tanned face, her long black hair falling down her back as her mobile phone rang with an old Will Smith song about her hometown. That's what all the rich kids did nowadays. Even Stelle had Dirty Water as hers. Needless to say, the relationships between Solo and Bond deteriorated rather quickly, especially considering the mole within their ranks.

The Simon Macey Test. Deveraux's most annoying of the new tests created by the graduates; it switched a Bond and Solo Team member and made them spies on the other team. They needed to sabotage as many missions as possible without getting caught. Each spy would report into their team leader, or in this situation handler, and let them know exactly what went on with the other team. The goal? Discover the mole on the team and rat them out. The catch? The vote had to be unanimous with the other team members. Stella would slap Simon Macey in the face slapped if she ever ran into him again. Her least favorite of the tests, the test also proved the hardest for her to put together.

Discovering the spy proved easy. Stelle and Karen had never really gotten along very well in the first place. But Stelle watched every move of everyone anyways. A simple, quiet night a few months after Stromfeld, Stelle still couldn't get over the results. Needless to say, she couldn't sleep that night. She lay wide awake in bed, her green eyes staring at the plaster patterns on the ceiling. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement. Closing her eyes just enough to hide behind her eyelashes, Stelle peered through the jet black forest to see Karen sliding silently to the door. She stayed perfectly still, her breath in the same rhythm as if she still slept. Her chest rose and fell in the same patter, but she truly prepared to follow Karen out. Counting to fifteen in her mind, she rose quickly and silently to follow her teammate. She first thought that Karen found someone to cheat on Jarrett with already. Why else would anyone sneak out? Her exhausted mind didn't function properly, and she brushed Dahlia's bed as she moved past. The other female member of Bond Team snapped awake. Stelle motioned for her friend to stay quiet with a finger to her own lips and then gestured for her to come along.

Quietly, they caught up with Karen moving towards the classrooms. Both of the girls crouched behind the corner of the hallway feeling silly to creep down the halls in their pajamas, but each gave each other a knowing look as they moved simultaneously down to the next corner hiding place. If Stelle found Karen cheating on Jarrett, Stelle would have to tell him and she didn't look forward to that. But what she would soon discover proved a far more lucrative venture.

Karen ducked into a classroom after looking down each way to make sure that no one followed. Stelle and Dahlia quickly slid into the hallway and crept towards the door. Stelle's heart filled with nervous anticipation. Could it be? Would she really cheat on Jarrett? Had this whole misbegotten situation of misconceptions and heartache actually become even more messed up? Indeed it had, but not in the way that she expected. As her green eyes peered into the darkness, Stelle saw Karen sitting next to none other than Ophelia, Solo team leader. The ruby hues of her hair gleamed unmistakably in the moonlight that shone through the window as she brushed a bit of her very long red hair over her ear with a flourish. No doubt about it- Karen was Solo Team's operative. Stelle looked at Dahlia with a bewildered look and they both turned to move down the hall together and quickly.

Stelle's bed felt soft and she covered it with only the best of fabrics. Her sheets shimmered maroon in hue, satin in texture, pillows piled onto her bed in a comforting fashion, similar to home. As her head buried in her pillow, thinking about all the events that had happened to her so far at Spy High, she started to come to the realization that nothing was worth more to her than her sister. She needed to protect her sister, her flesh and blood, her true friend in this world. The unwritten code of big sisters stated that she had to protect her little sister from harm and that's what Stelle would do, regardless.

"What's wrong?" she replied to Dahlia, a bit dreamily as if just waking up from a nap in a drowsy state of mind. It seemed to take a minute for her brain to switch back on. Stelle rolled over and then sat up. She finally began to comprehend that her teammates had no idea what the meeting with Keene entailed.

"It's my sister." 


	5. This Is So Not Mag

Meanwhile, Lizzie shuffled down the gleaming metal hallways of Spy High, trapped once again but this time by the military droning of Corporal Keene. This equated to far worse torture than exiting the office room. That actually merited some fun. Unbeknownst to Lizzie, she'd come close to escaping- had she pulled the 'Diamonds are Forever' spine she would have made it elsewhere. Unfortunately, she never gained the same appreciation for 20th century spy movies that Stelle had. The minute she returned home she intended to download all of the Bond movies to her iPod holo. Stelle probably kept copies on the house mainframe.

Lizzie's mind continued to wander as Corporal Keen continued his not necessarily monotonous but certainly uninteresting tour. She thought she heard something about 'hologym' and 'skybikes', but she couldn't be sure. The younger DiOrazio sister tuned him out a long time ago, after he started on a speech about Ethics in Espionage. Lizzie almost snorted. What ethics? Didn't all spies kill bad guys?

Lizzie stared into one of the empty classrooms, following Keene down the hall like a duckling. All of it just looked like the same old prep schools she'd toured for next year. Stelle said this school trained spies. So where did they keep all of the spy-training equipment? Her green eyes stared at the classrooms and not where her feet put themselves. Lizzie crashed straight into a tall, lithe, dark haired woman. She would have snapped at Keene normally, but decided instead to apologize profusely for the mishap. She didn't know what behavior could prove dangerous in this place.

"Normally, I'd probably be angry with you for it. But you really rock that camo, especially with your manicure." The woman stared at Lizzie for a second with her deep cocoa eyes. "You wouldn't happen to be a DiOrazio, would you?" Lizzie picked up the leather binder the woman had dropped on the steel floor. How did this strange woman know? The anonymous girl, dressed in all black, wore a jacket and boots made of leather and her demeanor certainly appeared unlike that of a student's. Still, she looked only a few years older than herself. Lizzie thought she taught at the school, but the woman, or more accurately, young lady, seemed to possess neither the patience, attitude, or wisdom of age required to do so.

"How'd you guess? The hair, right?" Of course, though Lizzie and Stelle had entirely different hair colors, their similarly shaped green eyes unmistakable. She held out the leather binder to the woman, offering it back to her. The woman's brown eyes held a sparkle, amused by Lizzie's statement- or Lizzie herself. Keene simply stared blankly, though he internally felt annoyed that she so rudely interrupted his grand tour. Still, Sonia Dark, former member of Solo Team proved to be an extremely dangerous member of the Deveraux Organization. Keene felt extremely lucky that the Deveraux manifesto forbid agents from killing, no matter how evil the opponent, unless absolutely necessary. Sonia had racked up the most kills so far, and not because she'd gotten herself into sticky situations. Each time she'd executed a villain who'd held a civilian hostage, using her own bare hands. As much as Keene remained a hardened military man, he also knew the wild, untamed look in the dark brown eyes of Sonia Dark, even as a smirk danced over the young woman's lips. Sonia had seen many harsh situations in her life, situations that a young pair of eyes shouldn't have seen.

"I'm Sonia Dark. A friend of your sister's. Keene, why don't we skip the boring stuff and bring Miss DiOrazio to the hologym," she told him, more a command than a question. Corporal Keene, though tough and hardened, still cared for his students. Sonia doubted that he'd protest, or cause any kind of scene about it. Besides, Sonia felt it the least she could do for Stelle, who'd taught her quite a few valuable lessons that she would always be eternally grateful for. Keene shot her a look like he thought she stepped over the line of authority. She shot him a look back that reminded of arguments past in which she'd pointed out to him that no strict military hierarchy existed at Deveraux. Lizzie watched with only mild interest as Keene and this Sonia Dark engaged in a mental war. Though she would give anything to get away from Keene's boring tour, she still felt wary of anyone affiliated with this organization, including her sister. Why would they have a secretary that attacked her, or stuff her in a room where the doorknob electrocuted on contact? Lizzie didn't want to go anywhere with any of them, but at the moment she didn't seem to have much of a choice.

"Hologym huh?" Lizzie asked, already skeptical. She didn't know exactly what Sonia meant by "hologym". They had gyms at home, but they just only had workout equipment. She couldn't see why a holoroom would combine with a gym. What, did they watch vids while they sparred or something? Sounded waaay professional for a bunch of spies. Lizzie had to keep from rolling her eyes at her own inner thoughts. Keene and Dark remained so engaged in their war of egos that they'd almost forgotten her. For a split second they stared at her as if she'd interrupted an important business transaction or something and they wanted retribution. Then they remembered the whole reason they argued still stood there.

"Yes, Miss DiOrazio, the hologym. Would you like to view it?" Corporal Keene asked her cordially, but gestured down the hallway and began to walk. Dark, not to be outdone, walked with him. Lizzie tossed her hands up into the air and sighed, following. They stopped in front of the entrance to a room where a machine scanned Dark and Keene for identification. Lizzie pulled on her blond curls on top of her head, tightening her ponytail. Her green eyes stared in amazement as the wide silver doors parted to reveal a huge white room, bigger than any she'd ever seen before, and considering she grew up a DiOrazio, the room appeared pretty big. She still stared at it when Sonia Dark grabbed her arm and yanked her into the room, the doors closing shut quickly behind them, locking Keene out.

"Computer, set base program, Tokyo Japan 2000. Base of Tokyo Tower." Out of nowhere the room became the bustling city of Tokyo, Japan, the red metal tower floating over them. Civilians passed by, the sun shone over the city. Clichéd much? Sonia had probably thought she'd get a kick out of this. Another test, probably to see if she would be strong enough to stand up to this. Might as well get on with it, as she didn't know exactly where the door stood anymore anyways.

"You want us to spar, don't you?" she asked, knowing the answer. Sonia Dark just smiled and nodded her head at the blond DiOrazio sister. Spies don't bump into people without good reason, especially not ones with the poise and grace of Sonia Dark. She pulled her long dark hair from her ponytail, the strands falling to her mid-back. A gleam rested in her eyes as the two extremely western women stood in the middle of the currently peaceful eastern powerhouse city.

"Computer, initiate program. Graduate number of opponents exponentially. Droid opponents." Four black-clothed figures appeared at corners of the room, surrounding the tower. None had faces. Lizzie couldn't decide whether that made the droids more or less creepy. Each held a ready stance. Apparently tradition and respect didn't exist at this Holo dojo. Sonia's consideration of her skill wouldn't be correct. She could already see weaknesses in the droids- probably programmed in. Stella wasn't the only DiOrazio daughter trained in Martial Arts. Lizzie enjoyed it, particularly because she met Cooper at the dojo at age three, but she could never do the grueling schedule Stelle did. She much preferred to try to be a normal kid, or as normal as possible considering the circumstances. Lizzie rolled her wrists, shifted her weight to a defensive position and nodded to Sonia. Lizzie now felt ninety percent certain that this sparring was another 'test', maybe to see her brainwaves for this mind wipe thing.

"Engage, the older woman commanded, and the droids sprang into action. Sonia stood with her back to the DiOrazio girl, maximum defensive stance. She wanted to keep an eye on her just in case. After all, the girl appeared a rookie. How many of the droids could she really take on? The first opponent charged at Sonia, a charge stomach feint that would aim to sweep out her legs from beneath her. She leapt vertically over it, leaning her neck to the right to avoid the elbow from the other half of her section of the double team. Her own left elbow slammed hard into the solar plexus pressure point of the droid, slamming into the gym floor, a red light on its forehead signaling the end of this particular opponent. She grabbed the fist of her other attacker with her right hand shortly before it could come into contact with her head. It didn't take long to get the arm of the droid behind its back, pounding her free fist into the kidney pressure points, alternating between the two. This particular opponent fell as well, all too easy really. Looking over, the DiOrazio girl had already finished her opponents off, standing and tapping her right foot. Sure of herself much? Sonia hadn't expected this kind of skill. Last she checked, only Stelle held any martial arts titles in the family. Well, the next round of opponents would appear soon.

A smug smiled rested on Lizzie's face. Too easy, really. The opponents hardly had any intelligence quota. She dodged the next opponent to come after her, blocking his chop at her shoulder and kicking him in the gut. She similarly went through the next four droids, taking them out in succession. Right uppercut to the jaw, left hook to the temple, knee to the groin, and a sweep of the knees with a palm to the chin. Clockwork. As she'd thought, Sonia programmed the droids on a fairly easy level. Lizzie turned to see how her partner faired just in time to catch a particularly agile droid smack her unconscious, causing her to drop to the floor. A shiver flew up Lizzie's spine.

"Computer, end program!" Lizzie called out, and the droids all stopped, rendered lifeless once more. Lizzie sighed in relief. "Computer, disengage doors." She would have to get Keene in here to help Sonia Dark. Hell of a spy they trained here if she couldn't keep up with a person who didn't even attend school there. She started to move towards Sonia, expecting the doors to open momentarily. Good thing her sister already trained in the martial arts or this might have proved problematic and worrisome.

"Unable to comply, guest DiOrazio. Manual overrides disengaged by a senior Agent." Oh, just mag. As Lizzie advanced, eyes on Sonia's body, she thought she glimpsed movement to her right. Nothing should move in the room currently. The scene of Tokyo faded, the droids frozen in place in the white room. One of the impersonal, cold droids had a face and a need for oxygen as well. Maybe Deveraux didn't fail horribly training spies. After all, who expects someone to infiltrate a beginner's session and get taken out in their own home base? Lizzie continued on towards Sonia, pretending that she'd seen nothing. Once reaching the unconscious woman, she whirled around and yelled out to the computer.

"Computer! Render all droids inoperative!" she quickly shouted, watching for one droid that would fall too quickly or too slowly. Lizzie knelt, keeping her yes to the droids, but quickly searching the woman on the ground for some sort of weapon. Nothing in her pockets, nothing in any possible holsters around her shoulder or thigh... there. Around the woman's waist in her belt rested a silver tube that looked like lipstick. Lizzie's hand wrapped around the top, pulled it from the top of the holder, and held it horizontally in front of her. Her green thumbnail dipped into the center groove, shooting out metal bars a foot and a half long on each end. Staring blatantly at one of the droids on the ground, Lizzie smirked.

"Computer, send video feed to Student DiOrazio." At this, a figure rose from the floor. She knew the possibility of help coming would put a hindrance in any plans to take her out. The figure took a similar tube from underneath the black sash around his waist. The figure had the anatomy of a man, and if it came down to it, she'd play dirty to survive. This school apparently wanted to kill her and she wouldn't let them, especially because she and Madison had backstage passes to the Supotoners next week. Her green eyes held the cold fire sparkle that the DiOrazio family struck fear into enemies with. She crossed her left leg over her right, began circling her opponent. Defense would be her strategy as well as her situation. Another step and he lunged with a jab. Leading with her left hand she blocked, scooping up underneath and slamming her stick upwards. Her right leg rose up and laid waste to his left side, quickly switching her weight and throwing his weapon over to her right side. She then shoved an elbow to his nose with a crunch, drawing blood.

"Damn!" he muttered huskily, and sent back a right hook her way. Lizzie ducked beneath it, confirming his humanity. Her right hand lashed out, smashing into his ankles with her staff. Stumbling backward, her opponent lashed out with his staff, connecting with her skull. Lizzie leapt up and back in surprise. She hadn't expected him to connect after she swept out his legs. Her left hand massaged her temple as she held her weapon in her right, back in a defensive position. Her vision didn't hold too well, becoming blurry after that hit. The next move of her opponent's, a forward charge with his weapon, she easily blocked, but she caught his kick full force in the gut. Lizzie doubled over, falling back against one of the while walls. Her attacker's arm pressed against her collarbone, holding her in place. Lizzie started to think that this losing consciousness thing, especially more than once in a day, she definitely didn't like.

A bright orange light emanated from one of the doors, spewing debris everywhere. An explosion, and both Lizzie and her attacker dropped reflexively to the floor. The impact from a droid being thrown hit her in the back, effectively pinning her to the wall. Groaning, that of her attacker, echoed through the room. Lizzie just fought to remain calm and conscious. Her back to the room, she felt vulnerable and open to attack. Instead, she could hear the click of metal on metal.

Lizzie would have known that click anywhere. A gun. Someone in the room had a gun. 


	6. Let's Fly This Coop

Author Notes: Updated the older sections grammatically and finally added a new chapter- it's been a long time. Hopefully I'll have the next section done soon- I'm about a third of the way through it.

"We're going to need more than nitronails to blast this open," Stelle said, studying the huge metal door leading to the entrance of the hologym. Locks firmly in place, the square doors kept one DiOrazio sister in and the other out. The raven-haired leader of Bond Team pulled her curls away from her face with a silvery cloth headband. Grabbing a surveyor from her street spy kit that she housed in her designer bag, Stella knelt to the ground and attached the device to the bottom of the door. Giving the surveyor a minute to analyze the door, Stelle glanced at her holowatch. Lizzie engaged a bot in battle, one that functioned even after Lizzie shut down the others. Her little sister held her own against the robot. Stelle knew Lizzie would hold off the attacker for a while, but against a bot her body wouldn't hold up. The spy game differed from the safer rings of martial arts dojos. She needed to get into the room and fast. Luckily for her, Daddy's mob supplies didn't disappear entirely with his career. Stelle's unconventional spy kit included way more than the standard issue Spy High kit did. Her kit held large square blocks wrapped in white which she took gingerly from her bag. As her steady hands removed the blocks, a gasp from the Bond peanut gallery caused her to roll her magnificent green eyes.

"Corporal Keene! Corporal Keene! Isn't that C4? Plastic explosives?!" Karen clutched at Jarrett's arm, a scared, doe-eyed look on her face. Clearly the girl either feigned surprise or never saw real explosives before. Stelle ignored the drama queen and remained focused on the task at hand. Scanning the readout screen on the surveyor, Stella read the green words to herself- iron, steel, aluminum- she'd figured that out long ago by looking at the door. Stelle needed to know how much force she'd need to safely blow the door, not what materials composed it. As long as Deveraux hadn't used adamantium Stelle thought sarcastically as she drummed her fingers on the door, she didn't care about the types of metals used. Finally the explosives screen came up and she inputted C4 with her fingernail; four blocks would suffice to blow the door.

"Carter," Stelle said, gesturing for her teammate to come forwards without turning her head around to look at him, "help me set up the detonators." Stelle knew enough to set off the C4 but an expert such as Carter would set up the system much faster. Nimble fingers worked quickly securing the detonation triggers within the plastic blocks. Carter kneeled next to her repeating her process faster on his half of the C4. Once the detonation wiring connected to the detonation computer, Stelle took her surveyor and outlined the placement of the blocks on the door, green LED lights emanating from the device and onto the door. Stelle adhered the blocks to the door and placed the detonation brain in the center. With a nod to her colleagues, Stella grabbed her spy kit and moved around the corner, away from the doors.

"Everyone cover themselves with heat-resistant camfoil," Stelle instructed, peeling a piece from the stack in her kit. Corporal Keene had not replied to Karen's annoying exclamation. Either he saw no other alternative or he still couldn't fathom how one of his own students could get her hands on C4 explosives. Stelle watched her teammates pull the camfoil over their heads and counted to ten in her head before pressing the detonator. Booming sound filled the area as waves of heat washed over the silvery camfoil cocoons. Stelle counted another 30 before peeling off her camfoil and making for the door. Reaching into her spy kit Stella snatched cool metal, a special weapon she'd created herself. An easy matter to plead Daddy for one of his old broken handguns, Stella rigged the gun to shoot sleepshot. The tool, more psychological than anything, provided her comfort and her enemies fear. Who wouldn't quake in their boots when faced with an outlawed weapon that looked like it could fire an ounce of raw steel? Stelle unclicked the safety and climbed over the rubble of the steel doors. Her eyes shot around the room searching for her sister. More droids covered the steel floors than Stella expected and the aftermath of the inside of the hologym looked as if it had fared far worse than here original plans entailed.

"Lizzie!" Stelle called out, scanning the area as she climbed carefully over the fallen bots. She needed to see that flash of blond hair, that "what took you so long" look from her younger sister, her one true friend in the entire world, the only person on the planet that she could ever fully and completely trust. Stelle's head turned quickly as she heard a slight shift on the ground. With quick green eyes she detected the twitch of a robotic hand, fingers that moved too fluidly for a robotic short circuit. Stelle moved towards the bot and pointed her weapon at the figure on the ground. Pressing a button on the "sleepgun", Stelle's movement caused the gun to make a noise similar to loading a bullet from the round into the chamber. The human robot tensed, muscles freezing at recognition of the noise. Stella held the sleepgun above the assailant, pointed at the exposed shoulder where the joint of the bot costume showed skin.

Her teammates took longer to remove their camfoils than their leader had. The five other members of Bond Team rushed down the hall and through the doorway of the hologym. All of them gawked at Stella pointing an ancient weapon at the droid. As the droid made a tentative move with its right arm the other members of the team could see the exposed flesh of the human droid. Dahlia gasped loudly and slapped both hands over her mouth. Everyone else felt their jaws drop. No one else noticed the existence of Corporal Keene behind them at the doorway, recomposed and as sure of himself as ever. He'd reminded himself that he taught at a school of spies, child spies at that. The unexpected fell also the same category as the expected. It shouldn't have surprised him that a student, particularly one with a (former) mobster for a father, would have an outlawed weapon.

"I know what I'm doing Keene. He hurt my sister, but I'm not stupid enough to risk capital punishment." For some reason this made Corporal Keene even more uneasy. Why would she say that and give away her... Keene's thoughts stopped as he watched Stella DiOrazio's finger pull the trigger of the pistol. But instead of a shot, no sound came from the weapon. Stelle pocketed the weapon after reinstating the safety and knelt to the figure. She removed the aspects of his outfit that made him robotic- first his gloves, boots, then chest plate. Her teammates still stood dumbfounded at the doors, unmoving. Keene couldn't comprehend how a weapon known for its lethal shots could be completely and entirely silenced. Stelle ignored her teammates and reached gingerly for the helmet. Releasing the connectors that held it together, Stella gently removed the helmet from the figure below to show dark hair, closed eyelids and a rough, ragged, manly face.

"Jake Daly?" Karen exclaimed, the one other person in the room who had regained her voice. "Jake Daly! You killed Jake Daly!" Stella rolled her eyes once again at the idiotic antics of her teammate. Jake Daly, though part of the legendary Bond Team still only just graduated from Spy High. She didn't believe him infallible. Even sleepshot took down the best agent. The real question that dwelled in her mind only could be answered by Jake, who lay unconscious on the floor. Stella needed to formulate a plan to search the debris on the ground for her little sister. Once they realized she hadn't killed their precious mythical hero maybe they'd snap back into reality and help her. Stelle's head titled sharply to the right as she heard a noise from beneath the rubble. A scraping of metal on metal confirmed her suspicions and a tanned hand followed by an unruly bunch of blond curls slid out from beneath the rubble. One hand pushed her curls back over her forehead and pinpointed her green eyes on her sister, who stood over the body of her assailant.

"What are you doing with Dad's broken 1989 Smith and Wesson?" Lizzie pulled herself out from beneath the rubble. "Stelle, who is that and why did he attack me? Is this whole school out to get me? Why's he unconscious? That gun doesn't even work." Lizzie finally pulled herself up and stood next to her sister. She stared down at her attacker, now motionless on the floor. She could still see his chest moving up and down. Lizzie had a million questions for her sister, but clearly they couldn't be answered. Only her sister could be trusted in this place which seemed out to get her.

"This, Lizzie, is Jake Daly, renowned member of the legendary former Bond Team. I'm the successor of his girlfriend, Lori Angel, and Dad's gun now shoots sleepshot instead of bullets, which knocks people out immediately." Stella looked directly over at Karen and the others, making sure they heard the last line. Her sister clearly knew that Stelle wouldn't be stupid enough to shoot someone with her father's collection of antiquated handguns but apparently her team didn't trust her as much as she'd hoped. She could see the visible relief on the faces of her sympathetic teammates, and on Corporal Keene, but not on Jarrett's or Karen's. Jarrett still looked disgusted, while Karen seemed a bit disappointed. Stelle snaked an arm around her sister's shoulders and held onto her. When Lizzie gasped, however, Stelle let go. Stelle thought that maybe her sister hurt her shoulder and didn't realize it.

"Stelle! Sonia's still in here somewhere! Sonia Dark, she brought me in here in the first place!" Lizzie looked around frantically for the girl she'd taken the staff from. Apparently, two members of the previous graduating class lay unconscious on the floor of the hologym and the hologym itself didn't appear to be in very good shape. Stelle feared the numerous consequences of this day. She also wondered what the hell her parents would do, and if the school would try to track down the other three hooligans and mindwipe them. Sonia Dark, one of the fiercest fighters lay on the floor of the hologym. She'd led her little sister into an unauthorized hologym session and almost killed her. Stelle had no idea how she'd ended up with such a horrible situation, but she knew that someone out there clearly knew more than she did about her little sister and that worried her. Stelle would protect her sister, regardless of the cost.

"Lizzie, who else knows about you coming here?" She should have asked her sister this question much earlier, but she didn't think to ask at the time. Lizzie almost thought about lying to Stelle. If she told her that Kyle and Cooper and Madison all knew and she might have mentioned something to Joey and Jillian then the boatload of them would have to submit to this 'mindwiping' Stelle seemed determined against. But then again, if people here attacked her, what possibly could be going on with at home with her friends? Fear crept into Lizzie's green eyes as she realized the dire circumstances surrounding her. Only Cooper knew martial arts out of any of her friends. Lizzie knew trouble would find her friends quickly if they did nothing to warn them.

"The hooligans Stelle, and a couple others. I can't tell you who, not here, not now. I think it's possible that they may receive visitors similar to the people passed out on the floor. Your dear Mr. Deveraux may not make this a decision we can weigh in on." Lizzie's last statement came out with more edge than she intended. Her sister had to know she prized her friends way more than any of the expensive things she owned. In the meantime though, their more immediate problem existed in the two bodies lying on the floor somewhere in the hologym. Stelle's teammates still looked half-dead standing there and Lizzie wondered why people picked these kids to train in spy craft. If they couldn't take the pressure in a tough situation, Lizzie didn't know how they would deal with a real life situation where someone placed their own lives in peril. Stelle's family wasn't the only one with outlawed weapons.

"Stelle, why the gun?" Dahlia asked, finally recovering some semblance of normalcy. She didn't want to believe her best friend would kill, and Stelle held up her end of the bargain. But why a gun? Did the gun really do anything that they couldn't do with the sleepshot wristbands? Dahlia moved forward and started to look through the piles of robots for the unconscious body of Sonia Dark. Dahlia didn't know exactly what Sonia Dark looked like, but if she lay beneath the rubble they needed to find her. Dahlia's jet black pigtail buns bounced as she made her way over the rubble in her jean capris and canvas sneakers. Where possibly could she have fallen?

"I've got infrared goggles on me. I'll find her," David said, pulling out a set of goofy-looking black glasses. The lenses glazed over and David looked through them around the room in the rubble. He spotted the DiOrazio sisters, the unconscious Daly, the smoking hot Dahlia (haha, smoking hot), but no other heat source. If she died her body would still show up on the screen. David blinked a few times and took one last scan of the room. Still nothing on the ground. Clearly some plot lay afoot and David for one thought they needed to regroup.

"She's not here," he reported, looking over at Stelle, all business now. Stelle gave her brown haired friend a weird look, and glanced at Lizzie. Could her sister have mistaken someone else for Sonia Dark? After all, her sister never met Sonia Dark before. But Keene would know the difference and he hadn't stopped Sonia bringing Lizzie to the hologym. Only one plan of action revealed itself to Stella, but clearly she would not pull it off easily, especially considering someone didn't want her sister to leave here alive. They needed to regroup, come up with a plan, and discover why someone had targeted her sister.

"Keene, we're taking a road trip off campus to my house. I expect not to be followed. I also expect that we will return at a point in the near future. But the minute my sister is placed in danger is the minute that I don't feel safe here, and that minute passed hours ago. One of our limousines will pick us up- I expect every single one of you" she addressed Bond Team now, "to report to the main gates in exactly one hour. Bring no Spy High gear. That's an order." Stelle took Lizzie by the arm and helped her sister to the clear point of the hologym floor. Stelle then took out her unconventional spy kit and restrained Jake Daly's wrists and feet with plastic ties. Then, removing her high tech first aid kit from her bag, Stelle slid the hover stretcher under the sleeping spy.

"Oh, and we're taking him with us." 


	7. Short Ninjas

"Sir," Keene spoke to the vidscreen in front of the newly decimated hologym, "what do you think should be done here? Clearly discipline is needed for the students and agents but the outsiders- what are we to do with them?" The Corporal had his hands on his hips. His voice kept a smooth even tone, as emotionless as his visage, but inwardly turmoil wreaked havoc on his mind. Apparently the students ran the school around here and he had no power over the wild antics of them, whether former or current. The hierarchy had broken and Corporal Keene knew from his military days that a break in command meant chaos- though not the CHAOS kind, thank goodness. Whatever decision Deveraux made, the reprecussions already seemed astronomical. He personally did not know how much of what happened that day Deveraux orchestrated and how much outsiders caused. Keene only knew that they would need to figure that out and regroup.

"Leader DiOrazio already picked the best course of action. An infiltration and break in Deveraux Academy's security results in an evacuation. I suggest you organize all other teams and order them to regroup in secure locations. I have no doubt that the DiOrazio household provides sufficient security. Inform them also of Bond Team's orders not to bring any Spy High equipment with them. I will run a diagonostic of the mainframe once the school has evacuated to determine if any problems exist. You must join Bond Team in their location and I shall send other handlers with the other teams. Inform Leader DiOrazio of my orders." Jonathan Deveraux's emotionless stony stare disappeared from the vidscreen in the holoroom leaving Corporal Keene slightly confused. Stella chose to take Bond out of Spy High only in order to escape from mindwiping her sister. What made any part of that fit along with protocol? Keene knew that the state of Spy High would not reach out of control in the future- Spy High reached that mark five hours ago when Elizabeth DiOrazio and her group of teenage friends broke into Deveraux's security by some miracle. Keene turned a perfect military step turn and made his way to the door of the hologym without skipping a beat, despite the mesh of metal bodies on the ground. Agent Dark, his former student, tricked him into letting an outsider, not even a Spy High student into the hologym on an advanced program. Now no one knew where she went, let alone why she'd done what she did. Keene ran the events of the day through his mind over and over again as he walked down the hall in order to make an announcement to all teams. The hour that Stella gave her team fast approached and he wanted to take care of business before Stella found some way to stop him from joining Bond Team at her home.

Keene moved steadily down the silvery halls of Spy High. Deveraux would take care of the announcements to the other teams. He started to wonder just how he would get Stelle to change her mind about going home only with her team. She seemed adamant about returning home alone. Who knows how she could explain brining her professor home along with her friends? Keene, deep in thought, passed the classrooms without noticing the half-closed door to the Ethics in Espionage room. Past six by now, no classes took place in there. Keene should have noticed though and would later regret not noticing the open door. He fell to the floor with a thud, never even seeing the shot. It looked like Stella would have her wish of returning home alone after all.

Upstairs, Bond Team stood gathered in the lobby, their sneakered feet surrounded by suitcases and one bound-up and snoring secret agent. Karen chewed bubble gum, looking annoyed at the fact that she had to travel to Stella DiOrazio's home. She stood with one foot protruding and her arms crossed over her chest. Her mouse brown hair fell from her simple ponytail and her pale blue eyes zoned out, tapping her foot impatiently. How long did it take for Stella DiOrazio to get all of her crap together just to go back to her big cozy mansion? Karen almost snorted when the DiOrazio sisters entered the lobby wearing matching Chanel sunglasses. Lizzie kept insisting to Stella that they go somewhere other than home, but Stelle kept telling her how they needed to return to the DiOrazio mansion. Clearly Stella, being her self-centered, egotistical self would pay for the mistake of ignoring her sister. Accordingly, that meant that she, Karen, might have to pay for the mistake as well. So resigned to fix their fearless leader's mistakes, Karen walked over to Stella's sister and asked her precisely what awaited them at House DiOrazio.

"You want to know what's waiting for us at 'House DiOrazio' Karen?" Lizzie replied loudly to attract the attention of her sister. "Stelle and I turn a year older this weekend. Stelle knows iexactly/i what that means." The blond DiOrazio sister's brow furrowed, an annoyed look on her face. This spy stuff didn't factor in with Mom and Dad's birthday plans, not now, not any year. Before her sister could respond however, Violette Crabtree appeared in the lobby through the front doors, followed by the DiOrazio chauffer, Roger. Stella did not register Lizzie's comments, too concentrated on her own ideas to be fussing with her sister's concerns. More concerned with how her friends would act in her house than with what her little sister said, Stelle forgot a vital part of the DiOrazio family traditions. Karen pursed her lips, shocked at the tart response from the younger DiOrazio sister. Though she thought that perhaps Lizzie just felt upset about the situation, Karen knew that Lizzie unmistakeably did not like her, which could prove to be a problem later on. Two angry mob-family sisters who disliked her- what a great situation to be in.

"Are all the DiOrazio women as hot as you and your sister, because I'm really going to enjoy these 'birthday celebrations' if that's the case," David said, sliding an arm around Stelle's shoulder in a half-joking manner. Stelle turned her head to glare at him and lifted his hand disdainfully from her shoulder to drop it to his side. She needed to concentrate, not have her best guy friend make jokes about her sister and the rest of her family. Oh God. iBirthday/i celebrations. Mom and Dad's excuse to throw giant extravagant parties for the two of them and oh great, THE social event of the rich of the year. She really should have listened to her sister back there- how could she have forgotten about their birthdays? Birthdays in the DiOrazio household did not mean fun and games.

"Don't think we'll all party it up at the DiOrazio birthday bash," Stella snapped at him sarcastically, "Think less Retro-MTV's 'My Super Sweet Sixteen' and more like the Academy Awards- plus a charity event and lots of old people and minus the celebrities and cool musical acts." Stelle grabbed her suitcase and gestured to Roger to come towards her. "We've got some 'special' cargo that needs to go in the back seat with us." Her right hand gestured to the bound and gagged Jake Daly, still unconscious and tossed about with the bags. Lucky for Stelle, Roger worked for her father back in the day. A bound and gagged human being wouldn't phase him in the least. Stella pulled her own suitcase out to the limousine, where she opened the door and five black-clothed ninjas jumped out at her, screaming. Quickly Selle tossed her bag to the ground and jumped backwards. When she realized she towered by a few inches over the ninjas, Stelle placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes.

"There's a reason I call you hooligans, you know," Stelle said in response to the ninjas. "Get back in the limo so we can get out of here. You're all already in enough trouble as it is." The short ninjas froze, all five of them. Stelle had hoped for only two, with Kyle running tech, but instead all of the three other hooligans and their outskirts dressed up for this excursion. Stelle's eyebrows rose at them with her lips pursed, hands on her hips. Just behind her, Lizzie helped Roger and Violette Crabtree carry the snoring body of Jake towards the car. One of the 'ninjas' gasped in surprise as Lizzie's blond curls bounced behind the hooded form of Jake. The ninja nearest to Stelle tore off her black mask to reveal orangey red waves and a bright, freckled face.

"Madison!" Lizzie squealed at the sight of her best female friend, almost dropping the tall, dark and handsome guy she helped hold up. He looked so angelic when sleeping that Lizzie had to wonder how he could possibly be the same creepo who attacked her an hour before. Finally they reached the last few trudging steps to the car and Mrs. Crabtree gave Lizzie permission to drop the 'hostage'. She turned immediately to her demasked ninja friends and Madison scooped her up in a hug.

"Get in the limo," Stelle ordered, interrupting the lovefest. "We're not exactly safe right now are we?" With her point made, Stelle's raven curls disappeared into the limousine. One by one each member of Bond Team put their suitcases in the trunk as Lizzie gave each of her dear friends a hug for attempting to save her. One by one they entered the car- Cater, David, Dahlia, Karen, Jarrett, Kyle, Madison, Jillian, Jason, and finally Coorper, who winked at Lizzie before getting in.

"Once again Liz triumphs over bullies. Collect a Life tile," he said, and disappeared inside. Lizzie began to laugh and almost stepped into the vehicle when a spidery hand on her shoulder prevented her from entering. Violette Crabtree stood to her right, smiling at her. Not exactly the reaction she'd expect from an old woman whose butt she'd kicked, but she'd take it. Lizzie certainl learned underestimating Violette Crabtree often proved dangerous. Lizzie's green eyes glanced over the old woman she'd engaged in a fight only a few hours earlier. Her eyes fell to the red mark still visible on Mrs. Crabtree's arm.

"I haven't been knocked out in years. Take care of yourself Elizabeth, you are certainly something special." Lizzie smiled, nodded her thanks and got into the limo. She for one couldn't wait to get away from a school with live robots and butt-kicking grannies. Roger entered the limousine and began to drive the limousine off-campus. Little did any of the occupants know that treachery filled Spy High and that treachery would follow. 


End file.
